


deepglow

by kidlightnings (revolver)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Body Horror, Breeding, Dark Fantasy, Egg Laying, Human/Monster Romance, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Severe OSHA Violations, Tentacle Monsters, Tentacle Rape, Tentacle Sex, and very NSFW behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:33:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25411684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/revolver/pseuds/kidlightnings
Summary: Leona Whitcastle is the last researcher, abandoned to care for a special responsibility, the Angler Project. Ennui turns to recklessness, in trying to provide her charge some environmental enrichment.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Sea Monster (Original)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 69
Collections: Multifandom Horror Exchange (2020)





	deepglow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Harpalyke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harpalyke/gifts).



> tw: tentacle rape, cervical penetration, inflation, egg-stuffing, implied pregnancy

She descended with a sharp clanking of unforgiving, unyielding soles on the diamond-stamping of cold metal stairs. They were faintly damp as she walked, and the air hung heavy like a soup as she climbed lower. Pumps, fans, the sound of rushing water all filled the air as the area began to light in a green-blue tone. It was clammy, as the tank came into view. The great, empty-seeming tank that stood at the center of the deep basement room. It was a lot for one woman to maintain such a facility on her own, but, with funding cut, her own presence was a technical violation, even, only that there was nobody to report her.

And that was how Leona found herself the sole proprietor of the Angler Project. It was a diversion, she'd been told, from any real research. Her name though had been lost in the shuffle of reassignments. It'd all been a slow process, a painful prolapse of one headcount, then another, and finally it seemed that nobody had even remembered to turn off the lights in their disinterest towards the whole thing. There was no technology to be gained from this, no advancements, it was simply a curiosity. And so Leona strode to the glass and knocked gently, a soft rap upon it.

"Good morning, Angler," she whispered.

The rhythmic hiss and gurgle of pumps was her only answer.

She walked further along the glass until a control panel came into reach, and her hand fell to a button, and a lever, and she clicked the button. A screen tilted up and she stared intently.

"Ah, Angler, they remembered us today, I'll send in your breakfast."

She clicked the button again, and the screen tilted back down to lay flush. The screen darkened again. She removed a safety from the bottom of the lever, and pulled it. The reaction was immediate to her motions, and a shudder went through a previously-hidden ledge above the tank. It tilted down, and a slick, heavy sliding sound hit Leona's ears. She watched above until a large mass hit the water. The dark discoloration spread immediately. A carcass sank into the water, disjointed from itself. Her nose wrinkled from the smell of dead flesh being disturbed. It was then that there was a greater motion. Darkness rose into view, sluggish, and gaining speed.

Leona's lips parted in a smile as the creature unfurled to engulf the fetid mass, and the torn bits pulled apart from the deceased cow. Magnificent. It was a smooth, huge animal not unlike a cephalopod, but more jointed, more bodied. Additional to its long and grasping tentacles, it had long, prehensile fingers on longer, bony limbs. Sometimes Leona lost count of both - tentacles and limbs. The limbs were more cartilaginous though than bone, her late team had discovered. It was through and through a predator, built for far more than feeding on the infirm carcasses of cattle that the nearby dairy farm would dump into the receptacle what felt like miles above-ground.

Angler stayed though in the vast tank, and seemed to almost hibernate until feeding every day. It- he, Leona had discovered, or surmised, at least, was a deep creature. What else could rouse him, nobody had yet determined.

His terrible mouth opened to rows of sharklike teeth, and tore at the flesh, spreading the dead blood in the water and fragmenting meat that Leona could only speculate was so awfully torn already from some kind of animal attack upon the beast. Bones were of little concern as the creature pulled hunks into his mouth. The sound was grating, crunching, snapping, but dulled out, deepened through the water.

Leona watched with the same rapt awe that she did every time.

Ultimately, this was, she supposed, why their funding had been taken, why the Angler Project collected dust until a budget audit found it to be superfluous. Another of this creature had never been found, it had nothing to offer beyond a sense of wonder at its existence, and no respectable aquarium would host such a creature, in fear for their patrons.

Silly, she thought, that. Apart from his daily feeding, Angler was all but inert. Well, perhaps that was part of the trouble as well. When he’d graced their floors with his beautiful shock of wild hair and soft eyes, Devon, lovely, gentle Devon, had suited up and dove into the tank to repair the pump, clogged with a bit of detritus and overheated into system failure. Leona’s heart had ached for his safety, and he’d come back out, hours later, reeking of spoiled, waterlogged meat and whispering with tender voice that if he didn’t know better, he’d worry that Angler was dead, for as little as he’d stirred. He was reassigned, and Leona had never heard from him again. Many long, dark nights had passed with her fingers between her legs and his name on her lips, and she imagined that he loved as gently as his voice told her how Angler was doing every day.

It had been a long time since Leona had been loved in such a way.

She watched as the last pieces of the carcass were grasped and pushed into the gaping mouth. She tore herself away from the scene, finally, and walked to other consoles, the jobs of a whole team now reduced to only herself. Leona had let her lease lapse and now seldom left the facility. It galled her, the idea that she was simply meant to leave, abandon her subject to what she could only imagine to be a slow death of starvation. Being forgotten, she had decided, was the cruellest way to go. Being forgotten, though, was how she still managed to collect a salary. The banality of her titling had meant, seemingly, being overlooked in the slow culling. Or, she considered now, as she checked the water balance, checked for any abnormalities, any toxicity, perhaps it was the ultimate, deliberate slap in the face. She could imagine it, that this was the perfect way to ensure that she felt as useless, as much a piece of the background as she had always suspected, was to leave her and her creature here, alone, in the yawning dark of a neglected facility, and indeed to make her think she  _ had _ been forgotten. Her creature. Yes, it had been her voice the loudest, championing that even if nothing  _ useful _ had yet been found, that such an anomaly was worthy of study. Many, so many, bright young interns, seasoned researchers all agawp, the newest and the oldest had toured, and ultimately, had left disillusioned over a majestic creature who only moved from a solitary corner to eat, and sometimes, to stretch its collection of limbs.

The initial fascination had of course been whether or not Angler was analogous to those terrible creatures that came from the depths and had pillaged the coastal cities. The hypothesis was that he was a juvenile, or a runt, or a malformed cast-off of the diverse species. Genetic studies had proven all of that to be incorrect. Angler was a mystery, unlike any genome they’d encountered. It was theorized that he may have been the last of a long-extinct prehistoric creature, but he didn’t align to any of those. Other theories were extraterrestrial, but any means of arrival could never be found.

Leona’s fingers brushed across the console, turned a radio dial by a hair at a time, watched as the salinity adjusted.

Truly, she had ceased weeks ago taking other measures beyond Angler’s vitals and the water conditions. She did not care for the others - measures of conductivity, measures of if there was activity in either of those sizable brains - Leona knew that there was. She had no need of an instrument to tell her so. It was what she feared, in fact. She feared that Angler was a large and intelligent being and terribly bored. Every attempt at enrichment, though, had failed to stir him from his sleep. He had his daily meal and was otherwise uninterested in hunting, he would not play with balls or rings or mechanical things to chase or be chased by. Devon had provoked nothing from him, and others were too apprehensive to enter the tank. Devon. That was the last time anyone had entered the tank. It was a thought that had Leona suiting up, skintight and heavy fabric wrapping up over a swimsuit - modest, as she’d always had the idea that someone, somewhere may still have the camera feed active. Someone, somewhere, watching her live out this single-handed operation. Was it pitiful, she wondered? Flippers strapped to her feet, and finally, the mask over her head, oxygen weighing heavily on her shoulders. Leona settled herself into the water and let herself sink.

Water eclipsed her face and hair became free-floating. The weightlessness was something she had missed, terribly, since Angler had arrived, she realized. Leona settled to the bottom of the tank, in a silent isolation of refractive blue and teal. The peace of it all could make her forget what else was here, where she was, even. She finally opened her eyes and kicked experimentally, reacclimating to how the flippers weighed her motions in the water. The forward motion was exhilarating and Leona found herself smiling around her mouthpiece. Further, she could make out the resting form, limbs and tentacles all coiled into a vague heap. She propelled herself forward towards it. It was bold, she knew, but none of the research up until this point had been, and they had gotten nowhere. Leona could ask herself,  _ did _ she want to get anywhere? She wasn’t certain she cared, but, she was a doll left in a back cupboard, had no more attachments to the outside world. Was this boredom with which she placed herself into harm’s way? Leona would have been forced to admit that indeed, it was.

The water was colder as she drew closer, an anomaly that the team had never fully identified the source of, except that it was innate to the creature, it seemed. The water was so still around her, even as she drew within twenty feet, then ten feet of the creature, of Angler. The name seemed a misnomer at this point - he didn’t glow anymore, the luminescent paths along his body, at the tips of his tentacles, hadn’t lit up since he had first arrived.

Not until she drew  _ very near _ to the still form. The lights from overhead seemed dim in contrast, and the sharp pull of breath through her mouthpiece was difficult, sudden for Leona. Every patch and spot was lit up in dotted lines along the great body. Even sans limbs, up close, Leona was reminded, strongly, that Angler was nearly twice her height. She was torn between the urge to swim back further, see if the lights dimmed, or, more pressingly, to draw  _ nearer _ and see if the glowed brighter. He’d not stirred, like a sleeping dog.

Leona pressed her luck, and moved closer until she could have reached out and touched the massive head that terminated in the maw that had shortly before torn apart the carcass. Her hand was within inches, and the brightness blotted out everything else. This was surely how it lured in prey, she imagined, but she was beyond caring. Ennui crept up to make her reckless, she supposed, a measured decision even to endanger herself.

She laid her hand upon the skin, smooth, slick. There was a tremor, a pulse in the water that sent a shudder through her.

The next movement was lightning-fast. She couldn’t react, even reach to the knife holstered at her waist, as tentacles wrapped around her. They held, tightly, unmoving, around her waist, and Angler was up, eyes lit from somewhere inside the skull, all the sets of them, data she had written down, as to how many, but couldn’t bring to mind. Her arms were pinned back, and cold panic of a calculated risk needing so, so many more calculations seized in her chest. She was not engulfed. Beyond being held, being studied, she did not feel anything  _ happen _ .

Then, that head drew closer, and the end of a tentacle covered the top of hers. Leona didn’t feel words, anything she’d identify as language, so much as a sentiment, one that she knew all too well. That  _ sentiment _ settled right into her belly, between her hips.

She furiously squirmed, eyes snapping closed, and twisted vainly against how she was held. It was like iron had her locked in, though, and then those hands came into play. They held her more precisely than the tentacles could, and applied more finesse in removing her mask, an action that she bucked her head against, tried fruitlessly to fight. Then came the mouthpiece, spewing bubbles in a rush as she’d tried to take in a breath quickly to hold.

The creature settled a tentacle over her mouth, and Leona could do nothing except comply as it pushed between her lips, thick, slimy. And then, air. Air rushed out the tip. She took a heavy breath unconsciously.

That feeling returned, heavier, more insistent at the additional skin contact. Leona let out a low moan around the appendage that supplied her with oxygen, and felt water leak in around her lips. It was pulled back in in a quick sucking sensation. It was shocking, a comforting upset, it felt unsettlingly safe. The tentacles loosened, but not so thoroughly as to let Leona thrash out of them, which she tried, but found it difficult with her head locked in place, the one that was nearly now down her throat holding fast. There was no more give to it than there would be to a steel post. That looseness permitted room for the nimble, clawed fingers to catch on the zipper of her suit, and Leona did thrash, harder. Moaning protests rose in her throat. The water was cold against her skin through the swimsuit, and tentacles surged into the opening, extricating her like she was being popped free of casing. The suit was a close-fitting one-piece, so standard as to be boring, and she whimpered around the tentacle in her mouth as the straps of that were pushed to her shoulders, and the creature seemed confused.

It pulled at them, which snugged the fabric between her legs tight, coming to crease between her nether lips. Leona struggled, unable to pull off from the tentacle in her mouth, which has reached a depth that she could no longer feel the end. It was past her mouth, and into her throat it seemed, and still letting her breathe without even feeling air pass her lips. The pulling continued until Leona’s arms reached a point of being pressed to her sides and the pulling reversed direction, shucking the suit down in a motion that made her feel like a part of dinner preparation. Her nudity was something she was unable to cover before the creature, and one huge hand wrapped around her naked body, holding her fast, but with more range of motion. She tried to pry herself out of, away from it, but was unable. The fingers, clawed and thick, were immobile.

She just breathed. The tentacles that dropped from view, though, those made her squirm anew when Leona felt pressure where her swimsuit had covered prior. Her body bucked until one tendril snaked around her thigh, holding it fast, and the other pushed in without any further preamble. It felt rushed, sudden, but easy, she realized, as slick as they were with mucous. So Angler was curious, she supposed. Curious faded quickly from her vocabulary as it felt like she was swelling, full, something firm pressed to her and then forced its way in through her entrance, but without any  _ motion _ from inside of her. Then there was another, and Leona squealed around the tentacle. There was no pleasure in this, and she felt a fullness that was impossible. Her cunt ached from it, and then, more unexpected, as something pressed its way back out. It felt so large, but there was no splitting pain as she’d expect. Just a full press and then she felt something exit her. Then another.

The creature - Angler - looked down, eyes turning in their sockets, and more of those, which Leona realized with a sickening sinking in her stomach, may have been  _ eggs _ , were pushed in through the penetrating tentacle, only to exit shortly after. That tentacle ceased, and no more pressed in until something else did. She felt another push, this time alongside, moving against her inner walls, but it felt smaller, less intrusive. It was still a stretch, and it seemed to curl into her, to keep going in a way that she didn’t understand until her mouth  _ gaped _ open with shock, with a tight cramping tension. Water filled her mouth, and was pulled out, ejected just as quickly, and her free leg thrashed, hips bucked. She felt a push that was so, so much harder, and seemed to split her open, almost, but not at the entrance of her cunt. It was deeper. It was a seizing feeling that filled her with cold, deeper than she’d ever imagined she might have sensation, and yet, there it was, and what she could only assume was a second tentacle swelled her.

She felt her stomach full in a curious way. It was just shy of pain, a roiling tension in her body. Then it was bigger. Fuller. Something else swelled at that point of constriction, forced it wider. That was the point when another swell pushed between her cuntlips, past the tightness of her entrance, and up through her walls. Another swell pushed in. Another. And then she felt that tightness deep inside her become the limiting factor. She bore down as though to push them back out, a desperate effort, and felt instead, a  _ pop _ inside of her as that pressure swelled and then suddenly, relieved. Then another, though, another push, strong, and she pushed  _ back _ , as though to stop it. The pressure escalated, sprang free, and then she screamed around the tentacle in her mouth. She knew well exactly what had happened as another push released itself, cramping her, and her stomach felt  _ full _ . It felt full in a more immobile way, that she couldn’t push back against, couldn’t push out. Eggs, deep inside her, seated securely in her womb, that she’d be unable to expel without help - medical help. Another pushed in, and she wondered, the thought screaming through her mind, how large could human organs swell to?

There was a shuddering feeling as one tentacle, the thicker one, withdrew finally. She’d lost track of how many pushes had breached her. It pulled back, but the slimmer remained, and Leona felt a surge push through it, and felt herself swell, heavier, felt as things shifted inside of her. She felt bile rise in her throat, only to be sucked out just as quickly. That slimmer tentacle was pulled free, and her cunt was empty. Beyond was so full, but her cunt was free of the invasion.

She sucked greedily at the air that was supplied to her, and the hand around her remained steady, didn’t release. She squirmed. Her stomach ached from the stretch, and her eyes finally dragged down, tried to peer. Under any other circumstance, the angle of her head compared with the rest of her body would have ensured that nothing at all could be seen, save for perhaps the ends of flippers, had she still had them.

Now, the sight of skin was on her periphery, not smooth, but bulbous and reddened from it.

Her eyes, stinging faintly from the salt, moved up to regard Angler as he held her. She stared at him, and the way they stung, she could only imagine that the salt of the water was mingling with tears from the terror, the stress, watching her body distended in such a way, the violation inherent in being full in places no creature was meant to reach.

A second tentacle breached her mouth, and she could do nothing to stop it. It pushed down, and Leona felt pressure, a swell under her ribs, and then further. She ceased to comprehend, beyond pressure. The pressure was so great, so tense through her body, and she felt at one point the swell of eggs in her belly disturbed, then again, and it seemed to push forward, and she made a moaning little cry around both masses that now filled up her mouth so thoroughly. The shifting in her didn’t end, continued until she felt a familiar, yet alien pressure, and squirmed, then  _ thrashed _ as the end of that tentacle pushed through and out of her ass. The pressure, the shifting all made sense now in a way that sickened her, and this time, no bile rose in her throat. She felt a dimness at the corner of her eyes. That dimness pervaded her vision until she felt, saw, perceived nothing.

Leona awoke on the steel grating at the edge of the tank, naked, but with her effects set alongside her. Her whole body ached, felt heavy, and in a panic, her eyes snapped down to her naked stomach. The skin was red, angry, but smooth, flat, and her hands moved to it, pressing, feeling, realizing the emptiness under her hands. It ached of empty. Her whole being felt so terribly lonely in its emptiness.

She clambered down the metal ladder rungs, unable to even imagine of dressing, and collapsed into a chair.

The machine behind her made a harsh, spooling grinding sound, high pitched whirs, and it had been so long since she heard it that Leona didn’t place such sounds as being what they were as she turned, exhausted, to see pages exiting the fax machine.

>> date: 2020.05.17

>> to: Leona Whitcastle

>> from: Chair of Military Science; Marine Research Division

>> re: Angler Project

>> Research promising since observation began on 2020.05.10, please continue your efforts, new team to be selected. Grant amount of $750,000.00 to be paid out to continue study of subject “Angler” in new breeding program. Please find attached resumes of eligible individuals. Select according to compatibility with new research direction.


End file.
